


The Battle is Now (my eyes are closed)

by harrytomlinsun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Harry, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, also i think there is a blood kink mentioned somewhere, but don't worry it is just a passing thought in harry's weird brain, street fighter louis, there is atiny bit of angst near the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:57:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrytomlinsun/pseuds/harrytomlinsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a big imagination. You need one when you write your own songs, and he kind of wants to write a whole album dedicated to Louis, from the way he moves, to the thin layer of sweat that covers his golden skin and the determination that settles in his eyes. Louis makes him think of a lion cub most times, with his feathery hair, puffed chest and tiny frame. But right now he looks more like the Lion King.<br/>Harry feels as if he should get on his knees for him – for several different reasons.  </p><p>Or, Harry is a struggling artist with some regrets and Louis is a street fighter with rage problems. There is a lot of dark alleys involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Battle is Now (my eyes are closed)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jadedbastard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadedbastard/gifts).



> I want to give a massive thank you to A and T for reviewing this and providing emotional support when I didn't know what to do with myself. To M for always being there when I'm brainstorming and need words of encouragement.  
> And of course to Jadedbastard, I hope you enjoy it! All the love x
> 
> Title from No Control by One Direction
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I know absolutely nothing about street fights.

Harry doesn’t like the term ‘ _struggling artist’_ mainly because it makes him sound like he is some starving teenager, playing his guitar in dark alleys with just enough money to barely survive. And while some of this description does apply to his life, he likes to think that a more fitting term could be ‘ _artist in the making’_.

Harry is nothing but a firm believer that he is going to be a star. He has the voice, the hair and the determination for it. It is just matter of time before the crusty streets where he sings become blinding light stages, really, he can already picture his own toothpaste brand. He is going to be _that_ big.

But at the time being, where he _is_ a starving twenty years old who just finished singing in his last dark alley and is now heading home without enough money on his pocket to take the bus, he is starting to regret some of his life choices. Especially those who lead him to the middle of a street fight.

It says a lot about the volume of his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear the crowd’s chanting ‘till the moment he finds himself right in the middle of it. Gross sweaty men push him from side to side like he is some kind of rag doll, making him stumble onto his feet.

It is a miracle that he does not fall, and just when he thinks that he finally made it out of it, he realizes that _no_ , that’s the fight happening right in front of him and a fist is coming his way.

Harry doesn’t feel the hit as much as he feels his legs tangling over themselves and his skull hitting the cold hard floor. There is a sudden startled silence that surrounds him, but it doesn’t last long before manic cackling roars through the crowd, and the bright blush that spreads on his cheeks matches his bleeding nose.

The person who injured him steps around him without even looking down, leaving Harry glued to the spot. Three seconds later the chanting has only gone wilder and his whole face number, there is a counting going down, he thinks, probably the seconds left before he passes out.

He leans over his scratched elbows, hissing slowly at the hot pain, and sees a boy collapsing into the ground, sending the crowd into loud cheers.

The people starts to dissipate soon after the passed out boy is carried away, different sizes of shoes step all over Harry until the street clears and he finally is left alone to die.

His mom will go into cardiac arrest when she reads the paper next morning. He can picture the headline in his mind, the tragic death of who was meant to be the next British sensation. His eyes water at the thought that he will probably be called a ‘ _struggling artist’_.

There is a light in front of his face that could either be the moon, the light from a streetlamp or the start of his ascension to heaven. With the constant increasing pain all over his limbs, he is inclined to believe in the latter.

“You okay there?” a musical voice asks before a face he swears he has seen in a mythology book appears right in front of him, blocking the holy light. “I think he has a concussion. Well done, Lou”

“He doesn’t have a concussion,” Says a new voice and Harry doesn’t have a doubt this is heaven because the shade of blue in those eyes defeats every earthly law. “Come on, get up”

Harry is offered a hand, and he takes it, every inch of his body protesting at the stretch. He is sure he read somewhere that angels aren’t supposed to bleed, but he is sure that is dried blood in the angel’s knuckles.

“He is mumbling some shit about angels, mate”

“He doesn’t have a concussion”

Promptly, Harry throws up and passes out.

*

Harry wakes up in an unknown sofa with a horrible headache, dried blood on his shirt and a Greek God sitting at the end of said sofa watching TV. He blinks slowly, surprisingly calm for someone who is facing their death and clears his throat.

“Excuse me, is there water in here?” He asks, his tongue dry and heavy in his mouth.

Greek God turns to face him slowly; seemingly unfazed by Harry and sighs. “Louis” he calls out, his voice thick with an accent “He is awake and thirsty”

Harry ignores his protesting back to sit properly on the couch and hears someone shouting from a distance _“Well, give him some damn water then”_

He blinks again and sees Greek God mumbling annoyed under his breath as he stands up to follow the command. Harry is having a hard time imagining someone casually ordering that beautiful being around, but who knows how the hierarchies work in the afterlife.

He takes a look around. The space is reduced and poorly illuminated; the walls have cracks on them and are thin enough that he can hear what he identifies as the heavy traffic unfolding outside. The couch where he is sitting in worn down and sticky with what he can only hope not to be body fluids and the air smells heavily of rotten food.

Apparently his local church was right after all, he did go to hell.

Greek God reappears with a glass of water and a displeased expression on his stunning face, looking outrageously out of place as he walks model-like between the garbage on the floor.

“Here” He says, pushing the glass into Harry’s hand and with a softer tone he asks “How’re you feeling?”

Harry drinks the water gratefully, letting it soothe his aching throat and cleaning the corner of his mouth after he chokes a little on it. “Good, I think” he answers and then furrows his eyebrows, “Am I dead?”

“Thankfully, no”

He looks up at the source of the new voice and finds his tongue drying again. A boy with damp hair dressed in a hoodie and incredibly soft looking sweatpants walks into the room, and Harry feels ready to pay for his sins.

 _‘Take me to church’_ he wants to say, thankfully his mind is working slower than usual, and he doesn't manage to get the words out.

Angel face gets in front of Harry and kneels inches away from him, making his face prickle at the attention. He is sure he had only seen that shade of blue in the ocean’s waves “Has your nose always had that penis like shape? I didn’t like, break it, right?”

Harry clasps his hands around his nose and regrets it the second they make contact with the swollen skin, squeaking an indignant “ _Heyyy_ ” coloured with his pain.

“L _ouis_ ” Greek God scolds, and Harry who had momentarily forgotten about his presence realizes that he is very much alive and in possible hostage situation with two unfairly attractive young men.

This situation can only lead to two scenarios that could either inspire an episode of Criminal Minds or rate five stars on a kinky porn site.

“Well," Angel Face - _Louis_ , he corrects - says in a high-pitched voice, startling Harry "We're glad that you’re fine and awake, please don’t press charges. See you around.”

Harry blinks slowly, the unthinkable scenario number three happens. He is dismissed just like that.

He stands up, feeling a bit queasy and opens his mouth, to say what he isn't sure, but closes it as soon as Louis raises both eyebrows at him with exasperation written all over his face. Rude.

With furrowed eyebrows he turns towards the door and leaves.

The outside of the flat complex isn’t a tad cleaner than the inside, and it is just as unilluminated. Thankfully he recognizes his surroundings, just a few blocks away from where the fight happened; therefore he is relatively close to his own shitty flat.

When he arrives he expects to find Niall waiting for him, worried that its way past midnight and his cell phone had died hours ago. Instead he finds the Irish lad passed out on the couch, snoring loudly and with an empty can of coke in one hand.

If he had any energy left, he would probably find it on himself to be a little more bothered, as he is now he just walks into his bedroom and throws himself face first onto his bed.

No even the protesting pain on his nose can take the sleep away from him.

*

Next morning Niall is very unamused when Harry rambles about what happened to him the night before. He just takes a minute to comment that, yeah, his nose does kind of look like a penis.

Harry thinks he deserves better friends.

*

Harry has very deliberately avoided walking back home after his singing sessions, and if he has to sleep less and work a few extra shifts to make up for it then, it is what it is.

It’s not that he is a paranoid person, but he like his face as it is – penis nose or not – and he would rather not have it modified anytime soon.

So Harry Styles is definitely not paranoid but sadly he is weak, and can’t resist it when he passes next to his favourite organic market and sees the baby bananas through the shop window with an expression that most would save for their lovers. And he knows that they are expensive; he knows that he won’t have enough money for the bus if he buys them, but he also deserves nice things, alright? So he buys the damn organic bananas.

They are fucking worth it. Or so he thinks until the moment he comes face to face with a large crowd that brings a sense of déjà vu that makes him stop on his track.

It is not the same alley than before - he knows this, he left his blood and puke on it. But the lack of illumination and the lingering smell of piss and sweat is the same. Thankfully this time he managed to pick on the situation before getting sucked into the vortex of screaming men.

He looks at the baby banana on his right hand ready to be peeled and eaten, and decides to tuck it back on the paper bag.

It will not end smashed. He will not end smashed. Not again.

A sudden roar smacks Harry out of his own thoughts and then he hears the countdown, loud and steady, getting more desperate the closest it gets to zero. When it does, there are fist in the air and caps being thrown, a lot of cursing and a few angry kicks and spits on the ground. Harry is properly grossed out.

After that, just as he remembers, the crowd starts to dissipate, and the street goes back to his lonely and quiet form, perhaps dirtier than most but nothing outrageous that would startle the casual walker.

He takes a minute to appreciate the fact that he is still standing without a drop of his own fluids tinting his clothes. He feels very proud of himself and ready to head home and brag to Niall about his accomplishment when he notices a tiny figure resting against a wall.

The thought of another poor soul being hurt the way he was a week ago makes his brows immediately furrow in concern, without a second thought he walks in their direction, ready to help and prevent any possible form of abduction from happening. He is very determinate on his step just to find that the person couldn’t possibly be abducted because they _are_ the abductor.

With his head resting against the wall, closed eyelids that cast shadows over sharp cheekbones and hands folded delicately over crossed legs is Angel face, known to the mortals as Louis, remembered by Harry as the abductor and recurring star of some of his past dreams – nightmares, obviously.

“You need something?” Harry watches thin lips forming the words, but it takes him a second too long to process that they are directed at him. With his eyes still closed and at Harry’s lack of an answer, Louis raises a challenging eyebrow and says. “Or do you just like to stare at strangers, kind of creepy, isn’t it?”

“No creepier than taking passed out strangers into my home.” Harry Styles is determinate, weak and bitter. That will be the description on his Wikipedia page.

At this Louis open his eyes, the poor light of the streetlamp making them look grey. Harry can’t remember their exact shade, but he does remember that they made him think about the ocean. He is starting to wonder just how hard he was hit.

He watches the realization flicker on Louis' eyes. “Oh, penis nose, isn’t it?” There is something like amusement playing at the corner of his lips; Harry has this feeling that he is being laughed at. “I thought you’d learn not to wander on these streets by yourself. London is quite dangerous, haven’t you realized?”

With that he stands up as if to make his statement firmer, but all Harry notices – with great delight, he must add – is that Louis is a few inches shorter than him. He has a comment about that at the tip of his tongue, but he ends up biting it when star number two of his dreams appears from behind him.

“Who’s this?” Is what he says, and he isn’t even looking at Harry but he opens his mouth to reply anyway just to get beat at it by Louis.

“Penis nose!”

Harry wants to groan, he does. He is ignored. And says in the calmer voice he can muster “My name is Harry” He is ignored again.

“Oh, yeah, concussion guy” He looks at Harry with a somehow apologetic look for a second before he turns back to Louis, “I already collected, good fight by the way.”

“As always, Zayn.” Louis answers but Harry watches his expression close a little. And then Harry realizes that –

“Wait, you are one of the street fighters?”

“Of course, are you just realizing that?” Louis gives him a look of disbelief “Maybe I did cause you a concussion.”

“Told you so.” Harry hears G - Zayn mutter. And yeah, he vaguely remembers Louis saying something about being the one breaking his nose but in his defence he was waking up from a concussion-induced dream. Caused by Louis, the abductor and street fighter.

There is something that simply doesn’t add up, he looks at Louis with his messy hair and expectant expression and arms crossed defiantly over his small frame, making him look very much like a lion cub and - There it is, the reason for his disbelief.

“But you are so _tiny_.”

“What the fuck.” Says Louis, every pore of his face radiating offence and next to him Zayn huffs a surprised chuckle that makes him scold harder. “I’m not tiny; you are just a fucking giant.”

“My height is pretty average.” Harry replies without missing a beat. “And you win? In your fights I mean.”

Louis expression transforms into a confident one. “Every single one.”

“Are you fighting children?”

“Listen, I’m really going to break your nose now.” He is fuming, and Zayn presses a hand against his chest to try to stop him from coming all over Harry, but he bats it away easily and comes face to face with him. He has to look up to catch Harry’s eyes that should make him seem less intimidating, but it doesn’t soften for a second the hardness of his expression. “I never lose.”

And Harry believes him. “Sorry,” he manages to mutter, and that seems to be enough for Louis, who takes a step back and no longer looks like he is two seconds from committing manslaughter.

“Stop scaring the kid, Louis. Wasn’t the concussion enough?” Zayn sighs and gives a Harry a sympathetic smile. “I have to go, now. Mother is in the city and wants to meet for supper, you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Nah, I’m not hungry. Send Trisha my regards.” With that Zayn gives Louis one of those side arms hugs and a kiss on the cheek that Louis pretends to be disgusted at, he says pretend because a big smile breaks on Louis’ face that don't leave even as he faux cleans the spot.

Harry looks away, feeling like a total intruder and a creeper. Perhaps this is his cue to silently make his departure.

“All right there, penis nose?”

And is Louis, of course, because Zayn is nowhere to be seen. He clears his throat, “Yeah, I’ll just get home now.”

Louis nods at him. “I will come with you.”

“Come with me where?” Harry asks dumbly.

Louis just rolls his eyes and grabs him by the elbow. “Dangerous streets, remember? God, did you manage to hit your head when I wasn’t looking or something?” Harry stumbles a little when Louis tugs him along, making Louis give him another incredulous look. “You totally are a baby giraffe.”

Harry glares at him but doesn’t comment, there is not much point in denying the true and Harry’s lack of coordination is a secret to no one. Louis keeps a firm grip on Harry’s elbow while they walk even though Harry is much or less steady on his feet, he doesn’t argue and concentrates instead on taking the right turns, wondering the whole time if it is wise to let Louis know where he lives. For all Harry knows Louis could be a serial killer, but he figures that if he had intentions of killing him he would have done it while Harry was passed out on his flat.

The streets are lonely and quiet, the occasional cat and too loud pop music from the buildings they pass the responsible from disturbing the peace. London looks quite beautiful at this time, even in the shitty neighbourhood they are at. Harry still can see the sky darkening, the precious rays of sunshine painting the sky with bright colours before the night arrives. And suddenly, Harry hears this noise, loud and close enough to him to make him stop on his track.

He turns to look at Louis, mouth a little open, and finds him with a blank expression and rosy cheeks Harry is sure aren’t from the cold.

“I thought you weren’t hungry.” Harry says calmly and looks at the way that Louis purses his lips confirming that yeah, his stomach made that noise.

Louis doesn’t answer and tries to keep on walking but Harry won’t move.

“Here.” He says, and takes a baby banana from his paper bag.

Harry is getting too used to Louis looks of disbelief. “You carry a banana with you?”

“A baby banana.” Harry corrects, he wonders if Louis has never seen a baby banana before but he deems the thought ridiculous. “And yes, I just bought them, hence the paper bag.”

“Alright,” Louis says and takes the baby banana, “Thanks.”

“It’s no big deal, just eat the fruit.” Harry hears Louis chuckle, and for Harry it kind of is a big deal, but he doesn’t tell Louis that. They resume their walk, peacefully eating their bananas and a minute later they are standing in front of Harry’s building.

Louis stands in front of Harry, his eyes a stormy blue and his posture firm. “Listen, Henry –“

“- It’s Harry.” He corrects with an affronted scold.

Louis gives him an exasperated look. “That’s what I said.” That is not what he said. “I’m sorry about the entire concussion thing and just wanted to make sure there are no hard feelings, you know.”

Harry blinks at him because he really doesn’t know. But then he looks at Louis in his ratty shirt and wore down vans. Louis, who lives in a horrendous flat and devoured his banana even after he said to his mate he wasn’t hungry. And he probably thinks that Harry could denounce him, go to the police or something - He did abduct him after all, and participates in illegal fights.

“No hard feelings.” Harry reassures and watches Louis’ shoulders sag with relief.

Louis nods shortly and turns around to leave. Harry waits until he sees his figure disappear.

*

Harry doesn’t know what he is doing. He really doesn’t have a coherent reason to be awake this early in the morning to make two banana sandwiches instead of his usual one.

He blames it all on his sleep deprived brain and overworked ass. And somehow, between the rushes from class to class, his part-time job and just his overall hectic routine, he manages not to think about it until right after he finishes his last cover of Lana Del Rey and the grumbles of his stomach can’t be ignored any longer.

He takes the Tupperware carefully out of his bag and stares at the two sandwiches inside. Two. He made two sandwiches this morning. Woke up earlier and everything because of it. This extra sandwich that Harry swears is staring back at him.

He takes a bite of one the sandwiches, the one he made for himself and feels the weight of the implications of the second sandwich settle on his stomach. Because it has an owner too, he made it with someone in mind and that someone is not enjoying this delicious homemade piece of culinary – he is an excellent cook, alright – because Harry is freaking out over a sandwich.

The same sandwich that he prepared for the enjoyment of that someone.

Harry needs more sleep.

After another bite that feels like paper sand in his mouth he packs the rest of his afternoon snack and heads out. To where, that’s another big question in the life of Harry Styles, becoming more of an enigma every day. His autobiography will have so many intriguing chapters.

The bad side of town seems like a good please to start - the bad side of town obviously being too where Harry lives. After all, he has encountered them every time on his walk home. He wonders how the other people manage to find them if there is some kind of system or a location app. Yes, an app would be very useful. He should probably do some research too, like rewatch ‘Fight Club’.

Two well-built sweaty men are coming his way, involved with each other in a heated conversation that Harry can still hear despite their distance.

“I told you that Tommo knew how to hold himself.” Spits the one with an impressive moustache. Harry wishes he could grow facial hair like that.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that he could fight like that, the kid looks like a fairy.” Replies a shorter man. No moustache or any facial hair for that matter, just bald.

“If you would have listened to me -“

“Eh, excuse me?” Harry interrupts now that they have come close enough, both men turn to look at him. They seem bigger and smell sweatier up close. “Do any of you know where I could locate the fight, one of those that usually happen close to these streets and around this time, and people watch the, um, fighting?”

“You with the fucking police, kid?” Grumpy bald asks immediately and Harry startles.

“No, um, sir, I just, a friend of mine-“

“For fucks sake, John, if he was with the police, why would you curse at him?” Harry notices that the moustache moves distractingly while the man talks. He decides not to comment on it. “The fight already ended, but at the end of this street turn to the right. See if your friend is still waiting for you.”

Harry nods and rushes into the direction he was pointed before he can hear what bald John had to say. Why does everyone think that Harry is going to rat them out? He doesn’t think he has one of _those_ faces.

He is about to turn to make the turn to the right when he collapses into someone, managing to send his unbalanced ass right into the floor.

“You again” He shakes his fringe to the left and looks up. Bored tone, golden skin and money in hand, is Louis. “Twice is a coincidence but three is a pattern.”

Harry bites his lower lip, hands still on the floor he looks at Louis’ guarded expression and tries to come with an explanation that doesn’t make him look like a stalker – or like he is working for the police. “I brought you something.” is what his mouth decides to blurt out.

Louis arches an eyebrow, and Harry moves slowly under the weight of his gaze to reach for his bag and the Tupperware in it. He should probably get up, even though Louis hasn’t offered him any help, to stretch in the dirty pavement is not something he had planned on doing in his near future, or ever to be honest.

He clears his throat and stands up as graciously as he can manage, shaking the dirt from the back of his pants with the hand that isn’t holding the container.

“For you.” He says and pushes his baked goods right under Louis’ nose. When Louis looks at him with surprised eyes, Harry hopes he can read the friendliness on his face and no creepy stalker, possible police helper, vibes.

“You brought me food?” Louis asks tone uncertain. As if Harry would give him an empty container. He can only nod and watch as Louis opens it, his face no changing to the pleased one Harry has been expecting. “You brought me half eaten food.”

“What.” He snatches the container back and looks at his bitten sandwich lying on top of Louis’. Not the most appetizing look. He blushes against his will and takes his leftover sandwich before he offers Louis’ the one meant for him. “That was mine; this one is yours.”

He can’t read the expression on Louis’ face, could probably be because of the night arriving or that his face is actually made of marble. Either way whatever emotion was going through him at the ends he just decides to take a bite, and – and he _moans_.

Harry swears that’s a moan that escapes Louis’ mouth and vibrates against the floor.

“This is good.” Louis says appreciatively around a mouthful. And usually Harry would be grossed out because as much time as he spends with Niall, he still isn’t used to watching chunks of food in humans mouths – but, there is this foggy sensation in Harry’s brain that doesn’t allow him to keep up with the situation.

He shakes his head the best he can and ignores it. He knows that even though he said that Louis and he are friends, that is far from the truth, and Harry is sure that having inappropriate thoughts about your former kidnapper is against some social rule.

He is about to take a bite of his own culinary masterpiece when he feels a vibration on his thigh that makes him jump and send said masterpiece flying out of his hand and collapsing into the floor. He looks at it with nothing but shame and a watered mouth.

Louis chuckles because he is a rude person with no sympathy and says. “I would offer you some of mine, but as you see there is nothing left to offer” he then sucks one of his fingers as if to prove his point and because he obviously has no respect for Harry.

No trusting his mouth to make an appropriate comment at the moment, he takes his phone out of his pocket and reads the message.

_Where are u ? u gonna miss the kardashians – nialler x_

“Important stuff I’m guessing.” Louis is standing over the tip of his toes to peek at Harry’s screen which is extremely rude and impolite as well as extremely cute. “Now give me your phone.”

Harry’s hand stills around his phone. He can’t believe he is getting robbed so casually.

Louis’ eyes move from the screen to his eyes, and there must be something in his face that gives away what he thought or maybe he said it aloud – wouldn’t be the first time – because Louis looks at him as though Harry is stupid.

“To give you my number, you weird penis nose shaped weirdo.”

Harry blinks, hand relaxing and passing him the phone “You called me weird twice.”

“That’s because you are two times weirder than average.” He looks at Louis’ finger moving quickly over the screen before he hands the phone back. “Here, I messaged myself.”

Harry wants to ask what for or why, but Louis is already moving past Harry in the opposite direction from Harry’s building. “Can’t take you home tonight, try not to get abducted on the way.”

He doesn’t turn back once, and Harry doesn’t move until he can’t see him anymore.

He makes it home safely but misses the first half of _‘Keeping up with the Kardashians’_ and he doesn’t trust Niall enough to give him a reliable resume. He tries to Google search why Kim hit her sister with her designer purse, but he can’t find the reason behind this particular episode. The intrigues of his life just keep adding up.

*

Later that night his phone’s screen lights up with an upcoming message.

_From: Tommo_

He bites his lower lip with anticipation and counts to three before opening it.

It’s a nose emoji.

Harry thinks it’s safe to say that they are friends now.

*

Harry is not one for violence, has never been, so it come as a bit of a shocker when he starts to spend most of his afternoons tracking street fights around London.

It has been weeks since his appearances at Louis’ fights became regular, another plus to his routine. He always arrives after they are done and finds Louis waiting for him with that air of tranquillity that makes his skin look brighter and an empty stomach that Harry dutifully feeds.

It is not hardship, to make food for the two of them, he has always liked to cook, and it is totally worth it by the different expressions Louis makes whenever he gets the first taste for that day’s snack.

So he has never actually seen Louis fight, and he obviously isn’t counting their first encounter when he barely got a look at Louis’ fist before it made contact with his nose. And he kind of has a hard time processing that Louis’ the fighter, known as Tommo, is the same Louis who sits with him on the relatively cleaner side of the streets to share baked goods and make penis jokes. And more often than no walks Harry to his building and makes Harry text him that he made it alright whenever he can’t take him.

But today he had woken up with a cold and the sensation that this might be his last day on earth. And he is totally regretting not taking Louis’ offer of borrowing his hoodie yesterday – it just looked so good on him. Obviously, he can’t sing like this and going straight home to complain to Niall via pouty snapchats will only make him feel more miserable. So he burrows his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket – which he totally didn’t forget today – and makes an early journey in search of today's’ fight.

As usual Harry doesn’t find the fight as much as the fight finds Harry.

A small group of people conformed by loud teenagers are tripping over each other as they talk about the bets they will make, he decides to follow them right after Louis’ fighter nickname gets slipped into the conversation. He feels an odd sense of pride at the way the kid says it. Like you do with the name of someone you admire.

The alley of the day is one where they have been before, the locations seem pretty much chosen at random, skipping from one street to another in order to avoid the police and only confirming where with the fighters. 

It also provides different crowds, and Louis’ had told him it helps when they hadn’t seen him fight before because most of the bets are made against him so the more he makes when he beats their asses. His words.

The crowd for tonight seems full of diversity, from the usual sweaty men to excited teenagers that don’t look completely legal, but Harry still manages to stand out in his black trench coat and big boots – he may be broke, but he doesn’t like looking it.

Zayn is the first to spot him, also standing out from the crowd but for different reasons, like being easily the most attractive person there only with Louis as the runner-up.

“Hey, Zayn.” Harry greets and then coughs in the back of his hand, the sound of his own raspy throat making him cringe.

“You are early.” Zayn says, nodding in acknowledgement. Harry nods back, and he feels like it may be a tiny bit rude just to ask for Louis when he just arrived, it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy Zayn’s company but – “He is in the back, but you should probably wait until after he is done.”

There is some sort of odd warning in his tone that Harry completely dismisses, smiling briefly at him before turning in the direction he was pointed at. The air is humid and makes him feel uncomfortable under his collar, being sick is the absolutely worst.

As soon as he sees Louis he stops dead on his track. He almost doesn’t recognize him, not because he looks any different, with his trademark black vans and dark hoodie pulled over his head. But is the way he is standing, with his back rigid and knuckles whitening by his sides, pacing incessantly from one place to another, kicking the dirt with frustration and looking like some caged animal that make Harry immediately stop.

“Louis?” He asks unsure, his voice is lower than usual, but it cuts into the air and makes Louis stop and look at him.

He looks beautiful, as always, but this is a fierce kind of beauty, like the kind you would find in a white lion or some equally dangerous creature. He can’t stop the shiver that runs down his spine.

Harry looks into his blue eyes, the ones that usually make him think of the beach with their warm calm and reassured power. And at the moment he feels their power burning wild like big waves made of deep blue that could probably drown him any second.

He is so struck by the boy in front of him that he completely misses the huge man that sneaks from behind him and signalizes that it’s time, he leaves without more and Louis follows immediately after him. Harry has to catch his breath before doing the same.

Zayn is sitting on top of a dumpster that might as well be some designer couch for the way he looks so casual in it. Harry quickly joins him, after some embarrassing seconds while he tries to push himself over it Zayn finally takes pity on him and offers him a hand.

The fight starts quickly after that, someone introduces the fighters quickly by their nicknames and bets start to take place. Louis steps into the middle of the circle. A look so intense in his eyes that it would most likely make Harry crumble to the ground if he ever was in the receiving end of it. But then the other fighter steps in and a knot forms in his stomach.

The other guy is well – massive. He doesn’t look taller than Harry, but he obviously is way more built and muscular and greasy. The kind of guy that make you switch streets when you see him coming your way. And it’s not that Harry is usually this judgemental. But, he is pretty intimidated.

He casts a look at Zayn, his expression kind of bored and Harry doesn’t think that is the adequate response to be about to watch someone beat the shit out of your friend.

He is about to say something along those lines when the fight starts.

Harry has a big imagination. You need one when you write your own songs and he kind of wants to write a whole album dedicated to Louis, from the way he moves to the thin layer of sweat that covers his golden skin and the determination that settles in his eyes. Louis makes him think of a lion cub most times, with his feathery hair, puffed chest and tiny frame. But right now he looks more like the Lion King.  
Harry feels as if he should get on his knees for him – for several different reasons. 

As he said, he is not a violent person but it is not the bloodbath he was expecting, he feels more like he is watching some kind of theatrical dance. Louis is light on his feet, moving quickly and doesn’t give his opponent a second to react before he delivers his first attack.

It makes the other boy stumble backwards, a look on his face that says the exact thing Harry is thinking, how such force could come from such a small fist.

His apparent disbelief quickly transforms into rage but his reaction is too slow, and Louis hits him again, this time making contact with the side of his face, splitting his lip and making the guy turn to the side to spit some of the blood. But Louis is restless and won’t even give him the chance to do that before he strikes for the third time.

This time he makes the guy falls onto his back, and Harry’s ears are buzzing with the noises coming from the crowd and the blood pumping in them. Louis comes closer to him and the guy takes the opportunity to kick him on the sheen and send Louis directly to floor.

Harry gasps and he feels someone squeezing his hand, he knows it’s Zayn but he doesn’t turn to look at him. He is glad he didn’t because he would have lost the guy rolling on his side and hitting Louis before sitting on top of him to deliver a straight punch to his nose that has Harry sucking in a breath.

He is glad that the only thing he can hear is the beating of his own heart because he thinks he would pass out if he had heard the sound that escaped Louis’ lips combined with the pained expression on his face. He recovers quickly, though, and with an apparent undying force he manages to raise his knee hard, hitting the guy right on the crotch and making even the toughest looking man leave sounds of sympathy. After that he punches him repeatedly, so fast that Harry would have missed it if he had remembered to blink.

And that is it, the guy can’t hold it anymore and falls to his side. Louis pushes himself to a sitting position and looks in alert at the guy while the countdown starts going around him. Harry can’t help it but join, the collective adrenaline beating his raw throat as he screams the numbers. And then, it’s over.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that Louis won and the moment he does he hops out of the dumpster and rushes to his side, paying absolutely no mind to the threats the defeated guy is spitting.

Zayn is hot on his tail when he finally gets to Louis, who went back to lying on the floor, nose bleeding and eyes closed, sending Harry’s heart into full cardiac arrest before he sees blue eyes starting back him.

“Looks like we have matching noses now.”

Harry blinks and lets out a relieved bark of laughter that ends in a coughing fit. Zayn chuckles next to him and pulls Louis’ into a standing position, as soon as Louis is on his feet Zayn hugs him tightly and kisses his temple several times. Harry knows by the way that Louis doesn’t even pretend to be bothered that today fight was tougher than usual.

He looks elsewhere and lets them have their private moment, pretends he doesn’t listen the ‘I love you’ that are exchanged and remembers to himself the million stories Louis has told him about Zayn and his boyfriend Liam.

He is in the middle of picturing their three-way spring wedding when short fingers enclose his wrist.

“You came early.” Louis says, and he looks so much like the Louis Harry is used to. Calm and powerful and vibrant, that he has to physically restrain himself from pressing him against the nearest wall and just finally, getting on his knees for him.

He opts for something more family friendly, “Has your nose always had that penis like shape?”

Louis laughs, loud and with blood still drying over his mouth and Harry has never looked at someone more beautiful. He thinks it is possible that he is developing some kind of blood kink.

“There is only one dick in here that is attached to a face, and I’m sorry to break it to you but it’s yours, Harold”

It always pisses him off that Louis refuses to call him by his name, making up ridiculous nicknames instead, but it is really, really hard to get angry at him when there are crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes.

Harry is so fucking gone, and that point only gets proven further when he takes out the Tupperware container with a fajita on it, he just knows Louis is going to love.

Louis’ face instantly lights up, and he practically knocks the Tupperware out of his hands in his attempt to grab it. Thankfully he has better reflexes than Harry and his delicious fajitas don’t suffer some drastic fall.

He opens the container with a blissful expression that transform into a pout when Zayn comes back from collecting the cash with an apologetic look on his eyes, and Harry knows that tonight he will be walking home alone.

“It’s too early. Come on, Zaynie.” Louis is whining and to think that a few minutes ago he was beating a guy twice his size.

Zayn is a stronger man than Harry could ever aspire to be because he doesn’t budge. “Your nose is bloody and bruised; we have to take care of it. And no, we will not miss the meeting.”

Louis’ mouth that was open and ready to interrupt closes abruptly, a frown creasing his forehead, making him look young and innocent despite the blood he still hasn’t cleaned. Louis definitely has the entire fault for his new developed kink.

“You can take the fajitas.” Harry says after he catches Louis’ constipated expression as he holds the container protectively to his chest, “Just remember to bring me the Tupperware back tomorrow.”

Harry is very sure that his container will get lost in the disastrous apartment of Louis, and it is a huge loss for him but at the same time it’s nothing compared to the warm that spreads on his chest when Louis smiles softly at him. “Thanks.”

They look at each other smiling like fools until Zayn claps Louis harshly on the back, making him curse and effectively ruining whatever moment they had going on.

Zayn says goodbye to Harry before he grabs Louis by the arm and practically drags him down the street.

On his way home he tries not to think too much about what kind of meeting Louis and Zayn attend

*

The next day he is in the middle of his lunch on campus when his phone vibrates with two new messages, both from Louis.

_I cant make it to the fight tonight_

_I swear im not trying to steal ur tupperwar !_

Harry’s eyebrows knit together when he reads them. It’s not the first time Louis can’t make it to a fight, but it is the first time that he notifies Harry about it. Usually, he either gets a message from Zayn or finds two boys that are obviously not Louis in various states of injured.

Niall rest his chin on his shoulder, he can feel the movement of his jaw as he chews on his chips and it’s something that Harry is used to enough that he can easily ignore it while he starts to type a reply.

“That Louis?” He asks, pointing a pale, greasy finger at Louis’ profile picture.

“Yes” He answers the obvious but turns to look at Niall when he takes his chin away from his shoulder. He has that expression on his face, the one that either means he is thinking too hard or trying not to fart.

Knowing Niall it’s most likely the later. “Louis the street fighter?” He asks again around a new mouthful of chips.

Harry tries not to be disgusted. “Yes, Niall, Louis the street fighter”

Niall has the thoughtful look back on his face, and Harry is going to ask him what’s going on when a rotten smell hits his nose, and he has to stand up quickly, decisively ignoring Niall’s apologetics shouts.

*

The Tupperware container missing from Harry’s kitchen makes him sad, but not as sad as being a week without seeing Louis’ face does.

*

On Friday night he gets a text from Louis, he drops his spatula from where he is making dinner in his rush to read it.

He wants them to meet for dinner, there is direction attached to the text and a note to be there in two hours. Harry leaves a post-it note for Niall to finish cooking for himself and he all but runs into the shower.

He puts on his best look despite not knowing where Louis will take him. With his knowledge of Louis’ current living situation, he doesn’t think it could be anywhere too fancy.

Boy, was he wrong.

The place is startling. The five stars kind of restaurant that you see in magazine’s covers, and he never thought there would be a day where his favourite pair of boots and black coat would make him feel underdressed. Harry double checks the address and doesn’t put it past Louis that the first time he contacts Harry in a week would be to pull a prank on him.

As if reading his mind he gets another text from Louis confirming the address and reassuring that he will be there soon. Fifteen minutes later there is still not sight of Louis or another message, and Harry is starting to feel uncomfortable being the only person standing in the near vicinity that isn’t wearing fitting trousers or a nice tie.

Ten minutes more pass and he leaves a long sigh and decides to finally give up on waiting, the wave of disappointment making it hard to shallow. He is walking round the corner pass the back entry of the restaurant, where the dumpsters are placed, and a few lamppost are broken, giving it the London vibe Harry is so used to when he sees it.

A figure resting against a wall. And apparently his brain is now conditioned to search for figures in dark alleys because Harry doubts any other person would have noticed. He walks in that direction like second nature to him, and it's totally not anything he has encountered before.

It's Louis, of course it's Louis, always Louis. But he is not wearing his black vans or his grey hoodie, but the silkiest black shoes Harry has ever seen and a tight fitting dark blue suit. There is not calm on the air or the heated rush of adrenaline, but a burning feeling that Harry can't identify right away and makes him sweat under his coat, he can see Louis shaking despite it.

And there is blood, there is always blood but never this much, darkening Louis suit almost entirely and quite not dried yet on his hands. When Harry comes close to him, kneels in front of him like he is in a trance, blue eyes meet his and there is fear and rage and anxiety, and it's the blue of a tsunami that knocks the air out of him.

"Call Zayn."

Louis’ voice cuts through the fog of his brain and by some miracle he manages to pull his phone out and actually do as he was told. He doesn't know what he is saying; he doesn't scream or yell or freak out like he wants to. Just calmly tells Zayn where he is, how he found Louis and to please get there soon. All of it while he holds Louis’ hand tightly.

He still holds it after he hangs up, his head spinning and spinning, his hands shaking, or maybe it’s Louis, he really doesn’t know. A few minutes pass, he can hear the sound of an engine approaching and with a numb tongue he manages to ask. "What happened?"

He doesn't think Louis will reply, or even hear him and if there was enough space in his brain to process other emotion besides the huge intense fear he would probably be surprised when Louis smiles, a row of white teeth shining under the moon that sparkles the thin layer of red colouring them.

"I lost."

The next thing Harry knows is that Zayn is right beside him, and they are both rushed into the back of his car. Just as he is going to open the door he notices the scarlet red colour on the hand he used to hold Louis, and he stares at it choked up, like the situation is crashing over him.

He throws up over the window of the car and passes out.

*

Harry wakes up in a familiar sofa and a human puppy sitting at the end of said sofa, staring directly at him. Before he can open his mouth, there is a glass of water pushed into his hand that he gratefully shallows at once.

“I’m Liam” The guy introduces himself, making Harry’s eyes widen as he takes on the person that Zayn has deemed deserving of him.

Liam is beautiful and built in the way that makes you think of a huge teddy bear because he just has this aura of warm and care radiating all over him. Even though Harry doubts his opinion would matter, he immediately approves.

He realizes that he just gave Liam an intense once-over and hasn’t introduced himself back. His face burns with the shame of his lack of manners. “I’m Harry, nice to meet you Liam”

Liam smiles brightly at him, and he thinks what it’s about this apartment and perfect boys on it. Because it’s Louis and Zayn’s apartment, he realized as much as soon as he woke up. It being the same as the one Harry’s subconscious uses to daydream about with his own version of how his wake up should have ended. Harry is not proud of his brain.

“Zayn didn’t want you waking up by yourself, but I think Louis should be coming here any second. He was very demanding of talking to you as soon as you woke up.”

Just as the words leave Liam’s mouth he feels bile rising up his throat, flashes of red and blue making his respiration accelerate. He raises his hands and feels a wave of relief calming his heartbeats when he sees them clean. He looks at Liam with a question in his eyes that it’s answered with a sad smile.

That’s the moment Louis walks into the room. He looks like a mess. The blood is gone, something that Harry is thankful for because he think his kink died as quickly as it came, and he has different clothes that make him look more like Louis and that should be enough to make it seem like nothing happened, but every second of the night is written over his face and the dark shadows under his eyes.

“We are going for a walk,” He announces, taking Harry’s hand. “Go talk to Zayn, Li.”

Liam stands up, and stares at Louis, a conversation going between their eyes before he turns to where Harry supposes the bedrooms are.

He lets himself be dragged by Louis and tries not to think too much about what is going on in order not to pass out again. Once they are on the street, the familiar air of London makes it easier for him to breathe, the smell of piss and sweat calming him in a way that should be at most disgusting, but Harry can’t find it in himself to care.

They walk in silence and Harry knows there are so many things to say that it should be uncomfortable, but he is so used to walking next to Louis down these very same streets that he finds nothing but peace. They reach one alley and Harry immediately recognizes it as the one where Louis hit him in the nose that very first afternoon and he is not sure if it was meant to be poetic or something, but his breathing is accelerating again.

“Sit down, penis nose.” Louis says, and there is the ghost of a smile on his face like there could be one under different circumstances.

Harry sits obligingly, no longer against the idea of exposing his beloved jeans to the dirt of the floor, and Louis sits right next to him.

“Last week my parents came to the city,” Louis’ starts saying, his voice carrying that melody he uses whenever he tells a story. Harry doesn’t think it has ever sounded this morbid. “They didn’t know about the fights, for obvious reason, and I thought that the fact they hadn’t figured it out made me had some sort of power over them. But it turns out that they already suspected that I was involved with something illegal, see, my dad has eyes everywhere, he knew about the flat I had bought with Zayn, and there was a rumour about me and the fights. When I showed up for our family dinner with a broken nose and scratched knuckles, I only confirmed it.

Zayn tried to cover up for me saying that we had gotten overly physical during a discussion, but it was pointless, and it only made my mother more furious. She was so mad that I was being so irresponsible, making a fool of my name during elections time that she all but locked me up. I was stuck on my flat for a week, only allowed to go to classes with one of my father’s bodyguard breathing down my neck and I wasn’t even allowed to see Zayn.

After a week of driving myself up the wall, I called my dad and swore on everything I had not to get into trouble and after some begging I will never admit to, he gave me some freedom.” Louis turns to look at him; Harry isn’t sure he is breathing, “The first thing I did wasn’t run to Zayn, which I’m sure he is hurt about, and it’s not like I didn’t miss him because of course I did. But before I could stop myself I was sending you a text and making a reservation in the absolutely fucking best restaurant I could think of.”

He pauses, to catch his breath or give Harry some time to process. He doesn’t understand most of what Louis is saying; it just doesn’t make sense to him. He sees Louis breathing getting heavier, and Harry reaches for his hand without thinking, giving it a long squeeze.

“You didn’t have to,” Harry almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’d have been more than fine whenever you took me, and that would had been too much money for you to expen like that.”

Louis laughs, and it’s abrupt and unexpected, and it startles Harry and makes his brows furrow.

“You really don’t know,” Louis says with a bitter smile on his lips. “My father is running for prime minister. I’m filthy rich”

With everything that has happened in the day, he figures that this revelation shouldn’t be as impacting. But it’s like everything he knew about Louis, the whole image of who he thought he was, is crumbling to pieces.

Louis’ speech suddenly makes a lot more sense, all the bits about his father’s eyes and bodyguards and the family name are meddling together.

“Zayn always insisted you didn’t have a clue of who I was but I couldn’t conceive why you would be so nice to me if it wasn’t to get on my father’s good side,” He laughs again, and this time Harry detects the bitter tone on it. “I was so convinced that you always kept appearing to eventually ask for a favour or sell a good story to the press if I refused. But at the same time I didn’t believe it.”

Harry finds it absolutely ridiculous that Louis had that whole concept built of himself just because he happened to bring him snacks; he just thought that Louis couldn’t afford eating out, and he doubted that he had much spare money if he fought for some cash. Harry stills, realizing that he also had a concept of Louis that couldn’t be further from the true.

He can’t help asking. “Then why do you do it?”

Louis looks confusedly at him. “What?”

“Why do you fight, if you don’t need the money?”

Louis whole expression darkens in a way that Harry finds disturbing, there is a smile stretching over his face that seems carved with acid. “Oh, I haven’t told you that about myself? I’m fucked up, Harry. I fight because I need to, because I go mad with this crave in my veins if I don’t release it on time”

Harry remembers then, the Louis he found before the fight, the one he described as a caged animal, he remembers the warning on Zayn’s voice. And he turns to look at Louis, can barely get the words out. “What happened at the restaurant, Louis?”

And it is like a mask being pulled with how drastic his expression changes. From dark and cold to vulnerable and open in a blink. “I just – I was waiting for you, but I needed to calm down. So I went to the back of the restaurant, there was a guy taking out the trash, but I didn’t pay him too much mind, until- until he came all over me. I recognized him then, one of my past opponents. He had a knife, and I just had my hands and the rage built over the week.” He takes his hand out of Harry’s and looks at them “When you found me none of the blood was mine”

A shudder shakes Harry. He closes his eyes and digs his nails into the palms of his hands to stop them from shaking.

“I made Zayn track the guy; he is recovering in a clinic. I am paying for all his treatments”

He takes long shuddered breaths, his eyes still closed and his voice echoing inside his head. _The guy is alive, Louis is not a killer._

Louis has a rage problem, but Louis is not a killer.

He opens his eyes slowly, and when he looks at Louis’ eyes, they are still blue. This time the blue of the sky on a rainy day, he then notices the tears that are running down his cheeks. And it’s the same Louis, as beautiful and vibrant, and Harry had expected to open his eyes to somehow find a new boy sitting next to him. But it’s just Louis, a Louis he knows better now.

A Louis he still is falling for.

He places his hands carefully on both sides of Louis’ face, tracing lightly over the tears that haven’t stopped and exhales slowly.

He drags his thumb over Louis’ bottom lip and feels the vibrations of the words he asks spread through them. “Can I kiss you?”

Harry breathes in, breathes out and flutters his eyes closed before nodding shortly.

Louis’ lips are tentative on his but Harry does not have time for hesitation, he grabs him by the back of the head, pushing their face closer until they are breathing the air the other releases. And he doesn’t know if he is the one shaking or if it is Louis, there is no way to know, he thinks they both are.

He parts Louis’ lips with his tongue, and he can taste all of his emotions in there. They both moan and they both keep shaking, and Harry was never incomplete, but he has never felt this whole.

When they part, Louis' cheeks have dried, and Harry’s mouth is tingling. “You need help, Louis”

He watches Louis shallows visibly, and he gives him a quick kiss, because if Louis says he won’t, Harry doesn’t think he could see him again.

“I am going to. Liam teaches boxing in a private gym, and Zayn knows a good therapist” He takes Harry’s hand between both of his. “I always thought I could control it, but I think it controls me”

It’s like relief washing all over Harry, his hands finally stop trembling.

*

There is a Tupperware back on his kitchen that night. It makes him feel at peace.

*

The next day he wakes up to a mouthful of blonde hair and an Irishman on top of him. “Did you shag him?”

He grumbles and squirms, trying to get him to stop crushing him, he fails. Harry opens his eyes to find Niall looking at him with all the interest of a good friend about other’s sexual life. He pinches Niall’s side until he finally rolls over and lies on the bed next to him.

“There was no intercourse, Niall” He says, looking at the ceiling, the aftershocks of yesterday’s emotional rollercoaster still tinting his skin with exhaustion. Niall waits in silence, half his interest clearly lost, but it gives Harry time to try to collect his thoughts. “Did you know that Louis is filthy rich?”

He looks at Niall by the corner of his eyes, scratching his tummy distractedly, and Harry thinks he didn’t hear him when Niall turns to look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, he's the son of that politician”

Harry stares unblinkingly at Niall, remembers that Niall studies politics and before a thousand questions can be rushed out of his mouth, he starts speaking again.

“I recognized him from the picture on your phone. Is it this news to you? I just figured that ‘street fighter’ was what the kids were calling their sugar daddies these days”

Harry laughs hard as he never thought he would do again.

***

One year later Harry is a twenty-one-year-old who just finished his last gig in a small pub that it’s now popular because of the green-eyed boy with the deep voice that sings songs about vibrant blue eyes.

Harry doesn’t have to track street fights anymore, just heads straight to Payne’s gym and encounters inside sweaty screaming men under the light of working lamps. The boxing tournament is about to start and he catches the blue eyes that have inspired most of his song looking for him in the crowd. When they settle on him, determined as ever and with a controlled force that wasn’t there before he can’t help the big smile that overcomes his face.

It doesn’t mean that he has lost his familiarity with London’s dark alleys, because as soon as the match ends he is dragged towards the back of the gym. The warm of Louis’ hand as familiar around his as the smell of piss that hits him as soon as they step outside. He is pressed against a wall, and Louis is in front of him looking sweaty, giddy and invincible after his win.

Louis kisses like he fights, with determination and purpose and familiar ease, and Harry fights back eagerly. When they part he looks at blue eyes like a waterfall, soaking him with love.

“Have I told you how pretty you are?” He presses a kiss on the side of his mouth, and he can’t help the way his lips quirk in a smile, feeling a warm spread all over his chest. “Do you like that? That I call you a pretty boy?”

“Well, it is better than penis nose”

Louis lets out a cackle on his neck before he proceeds to suck a mark right on the same spot, making Harry gasp and throw his head against the wall. Louis licks over the spot and whispers in his ear, “You also have a pretty cock. But I guess you have to, to make up for such an ugly nose”

His offended protests die in his throat when Louis gets on his knees right there in front of him.

Harry regrets some of his life choices, but never the ones that led him to the middle of that street fight.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ironlouie.tumblr.com/)  
>  show me some lovee x


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